The weather has been on again – off again for many weeks, making it difficult to get out and get pictures, or do early yard work. We have been squeezing tasks and trips in as we can, and there is always much to do indoors. Though the indoor stuff tends to be less interesting chores and not adventures to look forward to. Our method of attack is to tackle something and then take a break for tea, an old movie or a walk before diving back into the chore. We have been clearing and cleaning and fixing as needed, so any chance we get to head outside or on a photo trip is a nice break. If the weather holds and I have the day free, maybe we will get out again. One can only hope.
This week I took on the sad task of dismantling my studio space and moving it from the dining room back into the basement, where it first started about 12 years ago. I still have the show to finish pieces for, but fear that the basement will see me even less than the dining room space did. It feels like another step backward: from “real” studio, to dining room back to basement. And though I know where art is made is not as important as the making, it is hard to feel inspired in a basement. But, we are going to have new flooring put in as we prepare to sell, and it was a good time to start getting ready. Next April will be here so quickly, and why move things out, back and then to the cellar only to have to pack it up another time. The fact that the dining room will look like one, is nice and necessary, but not likely to inspire me to create. I’ll see how it goes.
But it’s co-ed inside. Or it was when it was a school, which was at least 40 years ago. This is how it was looking back in the mid 1980’s, decrepit and forlorn. It was changed soon after into condos, which must get great light through those windows. The BOYS ENTRANCE is on the opposite end, and the main entrance stairs which say neither boys or girls, and maybe were for parents and official visitors only. Or possibly boys or girls in the singular could enter there. It is a curious thing. I found this old photo in a stack I was sorting and tossing, the negative must be somewhere very safe, as I couldn’t find it. Perhaps it will turn up someday, an odd bit of historical imagery.
All feels a-wiggle now. Spring is in and out of the air as we await some warmer weather and signs of blossoms. The turtles had clambered up on the logs to sun themselves, but now have returned to the mud with the colder weather. Yard work is beginning in small bits between snows. There is much to do. We are looking to move next spring/summer and have a list that seems to stay the same length regardless of how much gets crossed off. The first college graduation is next month, with all the change that will bring as dorm items come home to roost before moving on. My feelings swing from side to side in this time of change; excitement to worry, busy to idle thoughts. Breathe-breathe-breathe.
I am getting back into the mode of urban trekking now that the snow is gone. It requires a different mindset than woodland treks. I need to be aware of wildlife, mud and stray roots in the woods. In the city that awareness shifts to cars, pedestrians, heaved concrete sidewalks, people who got up on the wrong side of the bed. It also requires that I screen out the noise to see what there is among all the man made structures that needs a closer look. Yet it is worth it to shake things up and get images like this one.
The barn sits on 90 acres, the hard used rental that sits across the road is all boarded up. The logging trailers sit beside it. The highway is but a stone’s throw away. I think we can all guess the future of this barn is looking grim. From the street side it looks like a regular old barn, a bit worn maybe, but sturdy. Once I saw the boarded up house I made a point to stop so I could take a closer look at the barn. And I wasn’t disappointed when I peeked in through a gap in the door.
I was blown away at the space and light. What a work of art in its own right. There is no house that could be built here that could rival this structure.